


Late

by AllmyotherOTPs



Series: Late [1]
Category: The Good Wife (TV)
Genre: Angst, Canon Compliant, F/M, Infidelity, Love, Mentions of Abortion, Smut, WHY???, bad timing, but with a plot, filing in the gaps, seriously Alicia, seriously these two, star-crossed lovers, ugh they deserved so much better
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-27
Updated: 2020-01-27
Packaged: 2021-01-04 16:00:35
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 9,102
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21200303
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AllmyotherOTPs/pseuds/AllmyotherOTPs
Summary: Alicia and Will are late.





	1. Day 1

_ **Him** _

They meet in Will’s apartment for lunch. Well, during lunch is probably more accurate.

“I’m losing weight because of you,” he groans in her ear as he takes her from behind in the shower. They’re already running late, which is why they decided to save time by showering together after. Turns out they won’t be saving any time after all.

“Oh yeah? Why is that? I haven’t really noticed,” she laughs, reaching one hand behind her, running a perfectly manicured nail along the side of his muscular chest.

“I never eat during lunch break anymore.”

“Well…” He can feel her chuckle ripple through her body. “I beg to differ.”

He sucks on that spot on her neck, just above her shoulder, the one he discovered back at Georgetown. As he feels her pussy contract around his cock in response, he fleetingly wonders if Peter ever discovered that spot. A part of him wants to suck harder, to mark her as his, so everyone – so _Peter_ – can see. Gritting his teeth, he makes himself let go before it’s too late.

“Well, I do eat,” he says, close to her ear, his voice low. He fucks her harder, the way he knows she likes. “But the calorie intake is low. With the high liquid content, and all this vigorous activity…” She can’t hold back a moan as he hits a particularly sensitive spot, “I think my calorie balance is negative.”

She gives him a slight push, and he slips out of her. She turns around, gasping for air, water dripping from her eyelashes. Her hair is wet, too. Which means she’ll run _very_ late, because she’ll need to dry it before she returns to the office.

She runs her tongue around the shell of his ear. “I want to see your face when you come,” she says, and his balls contract at the sound of her voice, dark and needy. That voice she only uses in bed. Fuck, he’s so close. Again. He’s 40 plus, not 20 - but with her, he can come twice in less than 20 minutes.

Quickly, he pulls her feet up around his waist, pressing her body against the wall as he enters her again. She’s so wet, he slips in without any resistance at all. He knows they’re running late, and he knows he’s going to come very soon, so he needs to speed things up a bit. He grabs her hips, tilting her pelvis slightly so her slick clit rubs against him at every thrust.

She rewards him with a grunt, and a “Yes… right… _there_…” and he knows that she’s close too. He sees it from the way her eyes are starting to get glassy, from her half-open mouth. Hears it from the low growl deep in her throat. And then she starts to contract around him, and she brings him over the edge with her with the way her fingernails dig into the skin of his back.

She’s marking him, even though he doesn’t dare to mark her, is the last thought that goes through his mind as he comes and everything goes blank.

Finally, her legs slide down, to the floor. He sinks down on his knees in front of her, heaving for breath. His eyes are fixed on her pussy, where his cum is leaking out of her. She looks down at him, lifting an eyebrow. She knows that he loves this, loves seeing his cum on her body. “I need another shower to clean up after my shower,” she laughs, and he laughs, too.

“We need to hurry up,” he murmurs as he gets up, kissing her on the mouth.

She quickly rinses off, and steps out of the shower, drying herself with a towel. It’s soft, thick and luxurious – premium quality, like everything in his apartment. He grabs a towel for himself, too. “I don’t suppose you have a hair drier,” she asks him, looking at the disaster that is now her hair in the foggy mirror.

“As a matter of fact, I do.” He digs it out from the back of a drawer. It’s pink. And he’s had short hair for as long as she has known him.

“It’s not yours,” she says, raising an eyebrow, and it’s not a question.

“Someone may have left it here. A long time ago.”

“Right.” A smile is playing on her lips. “Who?”

He shrugs. “I don’t remember. Does it matter?”

If she thinks it’s weird to dry her hair using a hair drier that an ex left in his apartment, she doesn’t say anything about it. He leaves before her – they shouldn’t be seen coming back late from lunch, _together_, and besides – there’s no point in both of them being an extra half hour late because of her hair.

He gives her a quick kiss on the shoulder before he leaves.

* * *

_ **Her** _

She’s never been alone in his apartment before. After her hair finally looks decent, she allows herself thirty seconds of just standing in his living room before she leaves for work. Looking at this part of him that, until recently, she didn’t know anything about. It’s so very different from the dump he lived in at Georgetown.

But of course, that was a long time ago. It was millions of dollars ago, too, by the looks of it. And a very good interior designer.

She grabs his keys from the kitchen counter, and locks the door behind her. She’ll find a way to discreetly hand him the keys at the office. As she puts the keys into her handbag, half running on the way to the elevator, her fingers touch a tampon box, but she doesn’t have time to think about it.


	2. Day 2

**Her**

Her day is grueling. The case she’s working on is a hot mess – it was just dumped on her, the trial starts tomorrow, and she has a lot of catching up to do. Her lunch consists of a banana sometime around noon as she goes through a mountain of files, and she barely has time to think that today’s lunch is certainly very different from yesterday’s.

She doesn’t know what Will is doing – she hasn’t seen him all day, aside from a quick glimpse through the glass this morning. She doesn’t really have time to think about it.

At around two, his secretary knocks on her door. “Will would like to see you in his office, Alicia.”

“Sure.”

They’re not playing the angry boss-game they had going at the beginning of their affair. Sure, it was fun – at first. Their fights were effectively foreplay. But they were attracting too much attention, and they both realized they would eventually get in trouble if they continued on that path. Diane would have intervened on Alicia’s behalf, and they didn’t want her to start asking questions. So for now, they’re just trying to lay low.

She suspects that they’re failing miserably and that Diane already knows. And God knows who else.

“You wanted to see me?”

Will looks up from his computer. His face is perfectly neutral. She doesn’t know if he called her into his office for work, or if his motivation was something else entirely.

From the corner of her eye, she sees that his secretary is leaving her desk, heading for the elevator.

“Busy day?” He asks her.

“No time for lunch,” she says. “Just a banana.” Only as the words leave her mouth, does she realize how they could be misinterpreted. Not that she minds.

He raises an eyebrow. “Really?” Yep. Even though his voice is perfectly neutral, there’s no mistaking what he’s thinking about now.

She has to bite her lip to keep herself from laughing. “Really. Being a junior associate is hard work.”

“I'm sorry to hear that, but you know how it is.”

By now she’s pretty sure he didn’t call her into his office for work-related reasons. Or if he did, those reasons are not a priority anymore. “So I can’t help but notice that your secretary just left.”

“Yes, I asked her to buy me lunch.”

“So we have, what… 20 minutes?”

“Less, she’s annoyingly efficient. She’s only going to the deli on the corner to get me a sandwich. We have maybe 15 minutes.”

“You drive your employees too hard.”

“So I’ve heard.” He looks down at his computer, pretending to focus on the screen in case someone is watching them. “Go to my private bathroom. I’ll be there in a few minutes.” 

She leaves the door unlocked, and when he enters, he wastes no time in pressing her up against the wall. She gasps as she feels how hard he is for her already, and their lips meet as her hands tear at his shirt. When she finally succeeds in unbuttoning it, his skin feels like it’s burning under her fingers, and he gasps into her mouth at her touch.

“If you only knew all the things I’ve thought about doing to you today…” he whispers, his hands on either side of her head, holding her steady, forcing her to meet his eyes. “I’ve been so hard I could cut glass all day, I’ve barely dared to leave my desk. I haven’t been able to concentrate at all, I’ll I’ve been thinking about is you.”

“Me too,” she lies. It doesn’t matter. He’s probably lying too. Will Gardner is always efficient, always almost frighteningly focused. Even if he’s been thinking about fucking her from time to time, she’s sure he still got his job done, and done well at that.

She pulls down his pants, her hands roaming over his boxer briefs. He groans as her fingers lazily trace the outline of his cock through the thin fabric. She sinks down on her knees in front of him.

“Alicia…” He looks down at her, eyes wide, as he combs his fingers through her hair. When he says her name, so softly, there’s something in his voice she can’t quite place. Worship, or reverence, maybe. She licks her lips, and she sees that his pupils expand. Then she pulls down his boxer briefs too.

She hasn’t always liked giving head. With her first boyfriend, back in high school, she didn’t really feel comfortable doing it. She felt that it was expected of her, though, and figured it was something she could learn to like. Her experiences in college weren’t really much better – it wasn’t that she _hated_ it, she was just mostly indifferent - and the guys she was with weren’t always considerate. It wasn’t really until she met Peter that she started enjoying it. She found that she enjoyed coaxing reactions from him, enjoyed driving him to the very brink. She loved the power it gave her over him. So based on her prior experiences, she had supposed that oral sex was something she would only truly enjoy giving when she was in a stable, loving relationship based on trust.

She hadn’t thought she would ever be with another man again. Not until Peter betrayed her trust, shattering both her marriage and her family. Not until Will. To her surprise, on their very first night together, she felt a sudden, irresistible urge to go down on him. Even though they weren’t in a loving, trusting relationship at all – they had just agreed, after a number of tequilas, to fuck in a wildly expensive hotel room. For one hour.

Well, as it turned out, they fucked for quite a few hours. She only got home at 4 am that night, and Will didn’t make it into the office until noon.

Still, to her surprise, she discovered that first night that she not only enjoyed giving Will head – she loved doing it almost as much as he loved receiving it.

And he loves receiving it a _lot_.

She knows they don’t have long, so she doesn’t waste any time. She takes as much of him as she can in her mouth, not stopping until she feels that the head hits the back of her throat. He gasps, mutters something, she can’t quite hear what – she hears a “fuck”, and her name, and then she can’t make out the rest, but she guesses it’s filthy. She releases him momentarily, only long enough to lick the inside of her right hand, before she takes him in again. Pumping what she can’t take in her mouth with her right hand, while she fondles his balls with her left. He’s rock hard, and she can tell from the sounds he’s making that he won’t last long. She realizes he must’ve told the truth about needing to hide behind his desk most of the day. Suddenly, he pulls out, panting, and pulls her to her feet.

“I want you to come, too,” he groans in her ear, and he starts to pull up her skirt, roughly.

She chuckles. “We only have a few more minutes,” she whispers, gently, but firmly stopping his hands. She wants to say more. She wants to say that with the stressful day’s she’s having, it’s going to take a lot more than a few minutes for her to come. Even with him. And she wants to tell him that she doesn’t mind – right now, she just really wants him to watch him come. But they don’t have the time, so she doesn’t. “Please let me.” She pumps his cock with her slick hand. “Say okay,” she says.

It doesn't really seem like he's listening to what she's saying. “There’s nothing I love more than watching you come, hearing you, feeling you…” he says, his voice strangled. She feels his cock twitching in her hand, and knows he’s close. He _can’t_ come right now, all over her dress.

“And there’s a time for that – later,” she whispers in his ear. “But right now, I just need you to say… okay.”

“Okay,” he finally says between gritted teeth, and she gives him a final stroke with her hand before she sinks down on her knees again.

She barely has time to close her lips around him again before she realizes that he’s starting to come. His left hand is in her hair, but he never forces himself to go too deep, not even when he's coming, she knows she can trust him. He’s just holding her steady with a gentleness she’s never come across in anyone else before. His cum hits the back of her throat, and she concentrates on swallowing, fleetingly thinking that he said okay just in the nick of time – she has no idea how to explain away the mess he would’ve made of her dress if he hadn’t.

She swirls her tongue slowly along his slit as the last spasms go through his body. He’s panting hard, resting the back of his head against the door, his throat exposed. His eyes are closed. His left hand is still in her hair, gently massaging her svake. Lovingly, she realizes.

Not quite steady on her feet, she gets up. She knows he loves kissing her after. Peter never wanted that. But Will’s deep growl at the back of his throat as their kiss deepens lets her know just how much he likes to taste himself on her tongue.

“Alicia, you are…” he shakes his head in disbelief, struggling to catch his breath. His skin is flushed, there’s sweat on his forehead. “I’m going to make it up to you,” he says as he pulls up his boxer briefs.

“Oh yeah?” she whispers against his neck.

“Yeah,” he confirms. “That’s what I’ve been thinking about all day. Eating you out.” A shudder goes through her, as she feels another rush of wetness between her legs. “But I figured you might want to… wait three or four days.” She furrows her brow, not understanding. “I don’t mind,” he says, with a cocky grin. “In fact, I…” He kisses her neck. “…quite like it myself. But I know you don’t, so…”

It takes her a few seconds to understand what he means.

Oh.

So that’s what he thinks.

“Will, I’m… not on my period,” she tells him, blushing. She’s not sure if she’s blushing because she’s discussing her period with him - it’s not something they’ve talked about before - or if it’s because of what he just told her that he likes. It’s something she has never even considered doing before. But Will is more experienced than her, and - perhaps as a result - more adventurous. She usually doesn't mind, in fact - quite the contrary. But what he's suggesting is over the line. Maybe. “That’s not why I didn’t want to…”

“Really? I thought…” his voice trails off.

“Is that the only reason you could think of why I would turn you down?” She smiles.

“No, it’s because it’s been about a month since the last time you did. Well, 30 days, to be exact.”

“You’re keeping track of me?” She’s a bit taken aback. She doesn’t quite know what it means.

“Of course.” He smiles, and she can't help but smile back. She loves his relaxed, post-orgasmic smiles. He looks much younger than he is. Like he doesn’t have a worry in the world. Like he doesn’t carry the weight of a major law firm on his shoulders. Like he doesn’t worry about what would happen if anyone found out about them. If _Peter_ found out about them.

“I have to get out of here before your secretary comes back,” she says, quickly checking her reflection in the mirror, adjusting her hair and adding a layer of lipstick. “This was… fun,” she smiles, quickly kissing his lips. “I think you need to stay in here a bit longer,” she smirks. He’s a mess – he’s still breathing hard, his skin is flushed, and his clothes are in disarray.

She slips out of the bathroom, noticing – relieved – that his secretary isn’t back yet.

Safely in her office, she discreetly checks her period app.

_You are two days late._

She figures two days isn’t really that much, considering her current stress level.

Not that much at all, really.


	3. Day 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy holidays! And I'm so sorry it's taken me forever to post this chapter. I couldn't find my charger, and I couldn't write smut on my work laptop, so... But I finally found my charger, just in time for the holidays!

**Her**

She sinks down on the couch with a glass of red wine in her hand. She’s had a terrible day. She got her ass kicked in court, and she’s spent the last six hours with Kalinda and Diane in Diane’s office, trying to figure out a strategy for tomorrow – but honestly, at this point, it’s only a question of which Hail Mary pass to pick. She barely had time to eat at work, and besides, she’s had a knot in her stomach all day. When she finally came home, the fridge was almost empty. Zach and Grace were fighting, and Jackie called. Twice.

Only now, after the children are finally in bed – or at least in their rooms - does she open Will’s texts. She hasn’t talked to him all day, she’s only seen him a couple of times through the glass walls of Diane’s office. He didn’t even glance in her direction, not once.

But her phone vibrated throughout the day. A lot. She didn’t open his texts at work. She knew that if he had wanted to discuss something job related, he would have just come into Diane’s office to talk to her, so she had been pretty sure he was sexting her. She usually sexts him back whenever she has the opportunity, but she’s been on edge all day, and she just couldn’t afford to be distracted. Not with this train wreck of a trial.

She takes a sip of wine, and opens her first unread text. Even though she’s exhausted, she can’t help but take a deep, somewhat shaky breath when she reads it.

_“I just saw you in Diane’s office. You looked so hot, I had to go to my bathroom to jerk off so I didn’t embarrass myself. While I pumped my cock, I thought about how much I love watching you cum. How much I love *being* the one that’s making you cum. And just before you cum for me, you make this sound, deep in your throat, and your pussy is so wet you are dripping, and your pussy flutters, ready to contract hard around my cock, my fingers, or my tongue.”_

She reads through all the sexts – he’s sent them in intervals throughout the day, probably in between meetings. He’s told her - in great detail – what he wants to do to her the next time they meet. It’s mainly about how he wants to eat her out. She’s never met a man who loves eating her out as much as Will does. She’s glad he doesn’t mention anything about blood, though, because she thinks that’s probably one sexual fantasy she won’t help him fulfill.

She looks at the time – 10:15 PM. She sighs. She’s exhausted, but still he manages to turn her on. He knows exactly which buttons to push, even from afar. She presses her thighs together. She’s wet, she can even smell her own arousal through her clothes. Damn you, Will Gardner, she thinks, but a smile is playing on her lips. She switches on the TV, wanting it to drown out her end of the conversation in case the children are still awake.

He picks up after the first ring.

“Hey.” Just the sound of his voice makes something deep in her belly tingle.

“Hey yourself.”

“Did you work late? I heard from Diane you had a rough day in court.”

“Yes, it was a nightmare.” She grimaces, and takes a sip of wine. “I just read some very interesting texts,” she continues. She doesn’t want to talk about the case she’s losing. It’s been on her mind all day.

“You did?” Even over the phone, she knows that he has his poker face on. Or rather: His lawyer face. The face he uses in court. She’s always loved observing him in court – admiring how amazingly skilled he is at putting on a show for the judge and the jury alike. How he uses not only his exceptional knowledge of the law but his voice, his face and even his body. Regardless of whether he’s telling the jury a true story or just the version of the story he wants them to hear, it’s always impressive. 

“Yes. Seems like my boss has a pretty dirty mind.” He chuckles on the other end of the line. “Has anyone ever told you you’re pretty damn good at writing smut?”

Now he outright laughs. “Really? You think I should quit my day job and embark on a more… creative career path?”

“Well, you’re pretty creative in your day job too, and being a name partner is probably more lucrative. Besides, I prefer not having to share your hidden talent with anyone.”

“Well, you’re not.” His voice is soft, and there’s something in it, something she can’t quite place, but it makes her hold her breath. She realizes she has inadvertently opened up the door to a potentially dangerous conversation.

There’s a long silence. “I missed you today,” he finally says, but his words don’t make the conversation any less dangerous.

“Seems like you only missed one part of me,” she teases. She needs to get them back to safer territory. To what they are, not to what they are not. It’s just an affair. That’s all. Her personal life is a mess – she has two children she’s trying very hard to be a good role model to, and she is _married_ \- to a powerful man who has hated Will’s guts for the better part of two decades and who wouldn’t hesitate to crush her lover professionally if he found out about them. And Will has probably fucked half the women in Chicago, and he’s been cheating on his girlfriends for about as long as he’s known him. 

And still you told him he didn’t have to wear condoms, she thinks, the knot in her stomach tightening.

“Oh, I can assure you I missed every single part of you today.” His voice is darker now. “Want me to tell you more about it?”

She hesitates. A part of her wants to say yes. Before she met him, she had never tried phone sex, and frankly, she didn’t really think she’d like it. It just seemed like a pale replacement for the real thing. But Will has a way with words. He can make her shiver in anticipation just by telling her what he’s doing, or how he wants her to touch herself.

She could do it. She could go into her room, lock the door, and allow his voice and her hand to make her tumble over the edge. Maybe it would release some of the tension in her shoulders.

But she’s also exhausted. And distracted. “Maybe some other time?” she says. “I’m not sure I’d be any fun tonight, I’m sorry. I’m half asleep already.”

“Tomorrow? Lunch?” He offers.

She sighs. “I’ve got court tomorrow too. This case is a bitch. I’m losing.”

“Well, Alicia, I hate to break it to you, but you’re a defense attorney. A lot of our clients are actually guilty. Losing cases is part of the game.”

Her client is admittedly guilty as sin. But that still doesn’t mean she likes to lose. “That’s a weird thing for my boss to say, isn’t it? That I shouldn’t care if I lose a case?” She teases him.

“I’m not saying you shouldn’t care. I’m just saying that even if you do everything perfectly, you’re going to lose sometimes, and you can’t let that destroy you. You won’t last long if you do. This job is hard enough as it is.”

“Yeah, I guess you’re right.” She bites her lip. “But Peter has the kids this weekend.” She’s pretty sure he knows that already. If he keeps track of her menstrual cycle, he sure as hell must keep track of which weekends she has the kids too. “My place?”

“Sure.”

She smiles, but doesn’t say anything. Neither does he. She’s pretty sure he must be smiling too. The silence between them is long, but not awkward. Will is the one who finally breaks the silence.

“Go to bed, Alicia. You sound like you’re beat. Get some sleep.”

She takes a shower before going to bed. She makes herself come. It’s gets there quickly, it only takes a couple of minutes. After, she struggles to catch her breath, resting her forehead against the cool tiles as the warm water runs over her body. She had hoped an orgasm would calm her, but finds that her mind is still racing.

With a thick towel wrapped around her body, she wipes the fog off the mirror, the circle just large enough to see her face. Her hair is wet, water dripping down on her shoulders. The mascara is smudged under her eyes, and she can clearly see the lines at the corners of her eyes, by her mouth, on her forehead.

It can’t be possible – can it? Surely she’s too old?

She goes back to the living room, still only wrapped in the towel, and picks up her phone. She opens her menstrual cycle app again, even though she already knows what it says.

“_You are three days late.” _

Fuck.

She looks at the empty glass of wine on the table and closes her eyes.

_Fuck_.

She rummages through her bathroom drawers, but realizes it must have been more than a decade since the last time she took a pregnancy test, and she probably threw away the long-expired tests during the move. She’s not even sure when the last time she used one was – her pregnancy scare about a year after Grace was born, perhaps? It turned out to be nothing. And after that, she had an IUD inserted. Ever since then, she’s had the IUD replaced when her OBGYN said it was time to have a new one, and she hasn’t really thought about birth control in the years in between. It was so easy, so convenient.

So when Will pulled out a condom from his wallet that night in the ridiculously expensive presidential suite, she just shook her head.

_“I’m clean,” she said. “And covered.” _

_“I’m clean too,” he answered. “So if you’re okay with it…”_

_“I’m okay with it.” _

Dammit. How could she be so irresponsible, when the consequences of her birth control failing would be disastrous? And it wasn’t just that one time. She’s never been a fan of condoms – and she figured that if they weren’t sleeping with anyone else, and remembering that her OBGYN claimed the IUD was a really effective birth control method, there was just no point in bothering with them. After the first few times, he stopped asking.

Biting her lip, she considers her options. She can’t possibly go to a drugstore. If anyone recognizes her, and it gets back to Peter… One photo, one tweet, would be enough. She imagines Eli Gold’s shock, and Peter’s fury.

No.

Determinedly, she opens Safari and does a quick search.

She chooses next day delivery. 


	4. Day 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You may have noticed that I have added the total number of chapters to the stats - yes, there is only one chapter left! I have also added some tags - please read them before you proceed, and consider not reading any further if they involve something that is a trigger for you.

**Him**

Alicia is in court in the morning, but she is back at the office in the afternoon. She’s back at ten past three, to be exact – with Lockhart/Gardner’s glass walls, he can see her almost from across the floor. Not that he keeps _track_ of her exactly, but he always... notices her. Her presence. He notices her in a way that he doesn’t notice anyone else.

He doesn’t look at her, though. He’s in a meeting with David Lee, so he needs to be discreet. So Will doesn’t smile to her through the glass or seek eye contact when she walks by his office. Instead, he pretends to focus on his computer screen. The truth is he has no idea what the document he is supposedly reading is even about. But he can’t help but notice David’s smirk as he glances from Will, to Alicia, and then back to himself.

Dammit. David Lee knows, too. 

He blinks, forcing himself to actually read the words on his computer screen, trying to focus on David Lee’s usual office politics scheming.

He knows he’s in trouble. He knows she could break his heart at any time. But still, he’ll take anything she’s willing to give him. Even if it’s just the pale shadow of the things he’s wanted from her – _with_ her - for two decades. Things she chose to give to Peter instead of him. Such as her full, unreserved trust. Waking up to next to her every morning. Promises. Commitment. A home. Maybe children. But even when her husband betrayed her trust and humiliated her, and very publicly at that, she didn’t leave him.

He’s starting to wonder if she ever will.

So if lunchtime sex – _incredible_ lunchtime sex - in hotel rooms is all she can give him, it’s better than the alternative, which may very well be nothing at all.

Later, he meets her in the hallway, as she’s getting coffee and he is on his way out to a meeting with a big client. She looks like hell. Well, she looks like hell for _her_. She’s still gorgeous, of course. She’s always gorgeous. He knows now that she never looks more beautiful than she does early in the morning, with no make-up and her hair a mess from sleep and sex. When her skin flushes as he wakes her, his hand sliding up along the soft skin of the inside of her thigh.

But that’s not what she looks like right now. She is pale, not flushed. She has tried to hide the dark rings under her eyes with layers of make-up. Her eyes, usually sparkling, are dull. More reserved. In her right hand, she’s clutching a brown, padded envelope. Her hand is shaking ever so slightly.

“Are you okay, Alicia?” He asks her in a low voice, stopping. She stops, too, taking a sip of coffee. He notices the tension in her shoulders. She looks taken aback by his sudden question, but this really isn’t the place for a long conversation between them, with people passing by them all the time. People are talking already, they can’t fuel the fire.

“I’m fine. Why do you ask?” Her eyes narrow slightly. He’s not sure whether her question is actually an accusation.

“You look tired, that’s all.”

“I’m fine,” she repeats. “It’s just… I couldn’t sleep last night,” she confesses in a low voice.

“Worrying about the case?”

She hesitates, just a split second too long. “Yes.”

From the corner of his eye, he can tell that Diane is observing them. He can’t ask more questions, not now, so he doesn’t.

“Let me or one of the other partners know if you need help with the case,” he says, loud enough for Diane to hear.

“Thanks, Will,” she answers, smiling politely.

**Her**

She receives the envelope at work. The tests are delivered express in a neutral envelope as promised. Still, her heart is pounding. Last night, when she placed the order, she considered what would be worse. Having the tests delivered at home, where her children might get their hands on them - or at work. Where there’s Kalinda, and Will, and Diane, and – Will. Not that any of them would purposely read her mail, but what if someone happened to open it by mistake, or if the envelope wasn’t neutral after all, or maybe someone in the mail room…

To make things worse, she meets Will when she is on her way back to her office after signing for the delivery at the front desk. Of _course_ she meets him. It feels as if the envelope is burning in her hand as she talks to him.

Throughout their short conversation, the only thing that goes through her mind is: _What will he say if it's positive?_ Up until now, she has mainly worried about Peter, the children, Jackie, Eli, the press, Diane, everyone else at work… And all those are major concerns. But she realizes now that the most important worry is probably what Will would think. A baby, particularly one that would cause a major scandal with the potential to severely hurt him professionally – well, it wasn’t exactly what he signed up for that night in the presidential suite.

_He doesn’t have to know_, she thinks, and the knot in her belly grows tighter. _I don’t have to tell him. _

But that would mean that she would have to… She shakes her head. _Cross that bridge when you come to it, Alicia_, she thinks._ Take the tests first. Then you can worry._

Maybe there’s nothing to be worried about.

Safely back in her office, she can easily slip the brown, padded envelope into her handbag without anyone noticing.

She doesn’t open the envelope until after the children are in bed. She locks her bedroom door and tears the brown envelope open with shaking hands. Struggles with the plastic wrapping that covers the rectangular, colorful boxes that are inside. She reads the instructions. All of them, because she bought three different tests. Apparently a lot has changed on the home pregnancy test front in the last decade or so. Last night, she found the traditional tests she is already familiar with, with a pink or blue line you have to interpret – is it a line, or isn’t it? But now, there are digital tests too. Tests that give you the verdict, so to speak, in words. Pregnant or not pregnant, no faint line interpretation necessary.

But she realizes that one thing has stayed the same, even though she had forgotten about it until now, because it’s been so long – for most accurate results, the tests should be taken using morning urine.

Dammit. 

She’s reading through the instructions for what must be the third or fourth time when Will texts her, asking if she’s alright. He writes that he’s sorry they haven’t really had the opportunity to talk today.

She almost doesn’t text him back. His perfectly innocent yet concerned texts reinforce her guilt about hiding this from him. But she figures he might think something is wrong if she doesn’t answer, so she writes something in return. After, she can’t really recall what she wrote, but it probably wasn’t important. 

**Him**

The screen of his phone is the only light in the darkness. The Egyptian cotton sheet feels cold underneath his bare skin.

“Goodnight” was the last message she sent him, just a few minutes ago. He reads through her messages again, but they don’t really say anything of importance. They are neutral – distant, even. He scrolls up, to messages they sent to each other a week or so ago, on a night very much like this one. A night where hadn’t seen each other all day, and they couldn’t meet at night because she had the kids. Those messages were very different - full of desire and want.

He sighs, puts the phone on the nightstand. Alicia has avoided him for at least a couple of days. She is pale and drawn, and has admitted to not sleeping.

And she is late.

It could mean anything, of course. Buy it could also mean… something.

He wants to ask her. He has wanted to all day. But asking the woman you have been sleeping with if she is pregnant is the kind of thing you talk about in person, you can’t _text_ her. But even when he meets her in person, he realizes that he has no idea how you are supposed to broach that subject. With anyone. And with Alicia… Whose personal life is a mess, and who is so fiercely protective of her privacy…

No. He needs to wait for her to say something. If there is anything to talk about.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I realize some of you may not like the way this chapter ended, but I couldn't make this easy for them, now could I? Nothing is ever easy for these two, unfortunately.


	5. Day 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry this has taken forever, but getting this final chapter right was harder than I'd thought.

**Her **

She thinks it’s weird – how, at first, she didn’t even notice it herself. Not until Will pointed it out. And now her being _late_ is all she can think about.

She does have a history of unplanned pregnancies, but that was a long time ago. Surely she _must_ be too old for that now. Women her age only get pregnant if they undergo expensive and invasive fertility treatments, right? IVF, maybe even egg donation. When she has read stories about women undergoing fertility treatments, she has always felt grateful she never had to go through that ordeal herself. 

But then, at 2 AM, she googles «unplanned pregnancies in women 40+», and her heart sinks.

She spends most of the night worrying about what Peter would do to Will if… And what the hell she’s going to do.

At six in the morning, after having had a couple of hours of restless sleep at best, she can’t wait any longer.

She’s done this before, back when she was with Peter, so she knows the drill: Peeing in a disposable plastic cup. Dipping the end of the test into the urine. And then the hardest part: Waiting three minutes for the result.

But even though the steps themselves are familiar to her, it’s never been like this before. She can’t bear to look at the tests as she waits, so she leaves them on the sink and goes to her bedroom. She has bought three tests, from three different brands. Just to be on the safe side. She sets the timer on her phone and sits down on bed. She stares at the countdown as she tries to control her breathing.

She never shared every single detail of her reproductive cycle with Peter. She would always test when she was alone, and she would only tell him about it after. This is different, though. Before – before his betrayal, she realizes - she always knew that regardless of the result of the test, Peter would be supportive. But now… Would Will be supportive if the tests are positive?

She feels fairly confident Will would take financial responsibility for a child of his. He wouldn’t be the kind of father who goes to court to reduce child support to the bare minimum, just to spite his child’s mother. But would he be there for the baby – and herself – emotionally? She knows that Will hasn’t been in a relationship that has lasted more than two years – ever. And that was many years ago, with Celeste - and having seen their chemistry, she wonders just what the nature of their relationship really was.

She has two kids, so she knows what she’d be getting herself into. All the things she thought she was done with. Breastfeeding twenty times a day, not to mention all night too. Sleepless nights with a teething baby. Endless diaper changes. Endless worries, too. Bouts of the stomach flu. Running after a toddler all day (and every day). Jam all over the couch. Noisy and exhausting birthday parties. Trying to get the child into the best preschool. And that’s just the first years – then there’s school, and homework, and more worries about their friends and relationships and grades and…

Parenting is hard work. She’s not sure she has the energy to do it all over again at her age. She’s not sure she _wants_ to do it all over again. Going from clandestine lovers to parents, well… that’s a huge leap. She’s not sure if their relationship would survive it.

It’s not even a relationship, strictly speaking. It’s just an affair. 

Will is used to living a life filled with beautiful women. Expensive wine and even more expensive cars. Impulsive trips to Paris, Milan or Hong Kong. He parties hard, but he works hard, too – he’s never had to answer to anyone. He routinely works 90-hour weeks. Would Will want to go give up all this to raise a child for the first time in his forties? With her?

She clutches her phone, her knuckles white, as she watches the countdown, second by second. What perhaps scares her the most about all of this, is that she thinks he would.

She thinks about a newborn baby, sleeping on her chest. With perfect little fingers and toes, and that sweet newborn smell. When all that matters, all that exists in the world, is the two of them. They are one. A tiny, perfect human being who relies on her for everything. Someone wants nothing else, who _needs_ nothing else, than to feel her heartbeat, the heat and softness of her skin, and the sweet taste of her milk.

When the alarm goes off, her feet aren’t quite steady as she takes the few steps across the floor to her bathroom.

She picks up the first test from the sink. One pink line, informing her that the test is working. The second has one blue line only – no plus sign. And the third test – the digital one – says “not pregnant” in the test window. It doesn’t get any clearer than that.

Her grip on the sink is the only thing that keeps her standing. The room seems to be spinning as she double checks the results against the user manuals, just to be on the safe side.

“Mom!” Grace is shouting from the kitchen. “I need you to sign my algebra test!”

She takes a deep breath and dries the tears she hadn’t even noticed she has shed. She stares at her own reflection in the mirror. Her eyes are huge and look nearly black in her pale face.

She quickly splashes some cold water on her face, before she goes to the kitchen to sign her daughter’s test.

* * *

**Him**

He’s in court all day. He’s so distracted that even the judge notices. He’s glad he’s not co-chairing with Diane, though. Instead he lets the new junior associate who doesn’t know him well enough to realize that something is wrong do most of the talking.

He texts Alicia during a break. He can’t possibly ask her what he _wants_ to ask her, so he settles on: “Your place tonight?”

It’s what she expects from him. Their texts that are either about work, or sex, or planning to meet to have sex. They usually meet at her place when her children are at Peter’s for the weekend, so suggesting it now won’t rouse suspicion. 

A few minutes later she texts back: “Sure. See you at a quarter to nine?”

He’s not sure what that question mark means. Or if it means anything at all.

“Ok,” he texts back. “I’ll bring takeout.”

* * *

**Her**

She should _really_ stop googling. “Home pregnancy test inaccurate result” returns a number of stories she wishes she had never read.

Thankfully, Dr. Halloway answers her email after only a couple of hours. It must be a slow day at the office.

_“Dear Alicia,_

_Home pregnancy tests are more than 99% accurate – in fact, they have the same accuracy as the tests we use here at the clinic.” _

Although that confirmation is a relief, the rest of the email is not. Dr. Halloway suggests that she can repeat the test in a few days if she still has not had her period by then. Apparently pregnancy tests will be negative in very early pregnancy, before the hCG levels are high enough to be picked up by the test.

He also says there could be any number of reasons why her period is late that don’t involve pregnancy, including stress and early menopause.

Menopause? She thinks, something twinging in her gut. Surely she’s not _that_ old?

“_If you wish, you can come for a check-up and a talk next week_,” he writes.

She writes back, thanking him for his swift reply and says she’ll get back to him on Monday if necessary.

* * *

**Him**

After work, he goes home for a quick shower and to pick up some clean clothes for the weekend. As he gets dressed – it’s a relief to put on jeans and a t-shirt instead of designer suits – he wonders what it would be like if Alicia were actually pregnant.

It would be complicated, to say the least. The press would be all over them. Getting a married junior associate pregnant – and the wife of the state attorney at that - would come across as very unprofessional to prospective clients, and they might lose some current clients, too. Diane would be furious, and the partners might lose respect for him. Alicia’s children would most likely resent suddenly having a much younger sibling, and they would quite possibly refuse to have anything to do with him – the man who ruined their parents’ marriage once and for all. Because surely there is no going back from getting pregnant with another man’s child, is there?

Not to mention that at her age, there is a significant risk of chromosomal abnormalities. He’s not sure if Alicia’s age would make the pregnancy a health risk for her too – he knows next to nothing about pregnancy and childbirth. But he’s heard talk of ‘older mothers’, and it’s always been bad news. He can’t bear the thought of being the reason why Alicia might be hurt, or worse. 

And Peter - Peter would _kill_ him.

But even as he knows that there are so many reasons why Alicia being pregnant with his baby would be a disaster, there is still a tiny part of him that is _hopeful_.

_Stop it, Will,_ he tells himself. _Stop being an idiot._

He’s just projecting his immature and naïve fantasies and hopes from back when he was 23 on her now, two decades later. He knows better now. She is married – despite everything her husband has done, she still hasn’t divorced him. She has two children already, and he has no reason to think that she’d want a third child.

He has gotten close to telling her how he really feels a few times – but every time, she has found a way to stop him, or laugh it away. She doesn’t need to say it out loud, he gets it: It’s not what she wants. She wants an affair, not a relationship. 

_It’s probably nothing._

There are a number of other and far more likely explanations why she’s been so weird the last few days. Stress from the case. Maybe she’s had a fight with Peter or Jackie. Maybe Zach or Grace is having a hard time at school – goodness knows being the parent of two teenagers must be hard.

Or maybe she wants to break up with him. Or well, not break up exactly – it’s not like they are together. But end this affair, or whatever it is that they are.

* * *

**Her**

She’s at home waiting for the children to come home from school when she feels the familiar cramps, deep in her belly. Along with the faint smell of iron, they tell her what she needs to know even before she pulls her underwear down. She sits on the toilet for at least five minutes, crying as she bleeds into the water.

She tries not to reflect on why she is crying. It’s probably best if she doesn’t. 

When Peter comes to pick up the children, she greets him with a radiant smile that almost makes him forget why he’s there for a second - but if he looks a bit dazed, she doesn’t notice.

* * *

**Him**

He knocks on the door, a white plastic bag with takeout in his right hand. When she opens the door, she is bare-feet, wearing a black tank top, with her hair tied in a ponytail. She looks gorgeous – but then again, she always does. Before he has the chance to say anything, her lips meet his, and he can taste the red wine on her tongue. He suppresses a moan as she deepens the kiss.

“I’m glad you brought food, I’m starving,” she says after she ends the kiss, but to his surprise, she doesn’t release him. Instead, she hugs him, tightly, it’s almost as if she is clinging to him. He can feel how her fingertips dig into the skin of his back through the cotton of his t-shirt. He holds her, not saying anything. Feeling the way her chest moves as she breathes - a bit too fast, a bit erratic. He wonders if she’s trying not to cry, but he doesn’t ask. Finally, she lets go of him, motioning towards the couch. Two glasses of red wine are waiting for them on the table. 

After they are done eating, he pulls her into his lap, and she straddles him as their kiss deepens and his hands stray along the curve of her back, underneath her tank top. His cock is already straining against the fabric of his jeans, and he can tell she notices by the way she sinks deeper into him, how she shifts subtly to stimulate her clit against the seam of his jeans. He grips her hips with both his hands, grinding her against him.

She tears free from his kiss, panting as she looks down at him with pupils that are so dilated her eyes look almost black. “I’m, uh…” she bites her lip. “It’s not a very good time for this,” she says apologetically.

So, he thinks. That’s his answer. He doesn’t try to decipher whether he’s relieved or disappointed or both. Mostly t distract himself, he kisses her again, more gently this time.

“I know you, uh… suggested something… earlier.” She blushes, biting her lip. Alicia is adorable when she blushes. “I’m not really sure if… that’s my cup of tea.”

He tucks a stray strand of hair behind her ear, smiling at her. “It’s okay,” he says. “Don’t worry about it.”

“I could still go down on you,” she says, her voice darker now, as her tongue traces the line of his jaw. Her right breast brushes against his chest as she does, and he wonders if, underneath the layers of fabric of her tank top and her bra, her nipples are erect.

Her offer is tempting, it really is. But it still doesn’t feel like they are quite alright after whatever has been going on between them these last few days. He knows she’s exhausted. And besides, he prefers to give as well as to receive.

“I appreciate the offer,” he says, his left hand in her hair, massaging her scalp while pulling her closer to him, “but I’m beat.” Their foreheads touch, and he can feel the heat from her breath on his skin. “Why don’t we just go to bed and get some sleep?” Right now, he is content to have her _here_, so warm and soft and close to him.

She hesitates for a split second before she smiles and nods. “Okay.” He hopes she doesn’t take it the wrong way. He knows that he is sending her mixed signals. She can still feel his erection, after all.

“Sure.” He kisses her – a long, deep kiss that he hopes doesn’t leave her with any doubts about how much he desires her.

“Your toothbrush is in the drawer,” she says, a bit breathless. “Mind if I go to the bathroom first?”

“Go ahead.”

He doesn’t have time to finish his glass of wine before she’s done, she’s ready in a few minutes. She usually wears a sexy slip or even nothing at all, but tonight, she is wearing a Georgetown t-shirt. It’s way too big for her, and he wonders fleetingly if it’s Peter’s, or if it’s one of his own. Some of the t-shirts he lent her when she slept on his couch at his place as they were studying for exams or midterms never made it back to his closet.

“It’s all yours,” she says. Now, without make-up, he can clearly see how exhausted she is, and he’s glad he turned down her offer to give him a blowjob. He finds his toothbrush in its usual drawer. She can’t keep it in plain sight, the children might wonder about the second, blue toothbrush in their mother’s bathroom if they see it.

When he returns to her bedroom a few minutes later, wearing only boxer briefs, she’s already asleep. She is curled up in a ball under the duvet, her breaths deep and even. He lies down behind her, tucking one arm around her waist. His knees fit perfectly behind hers as he pulls her closer. She mutters something in her sleep. He can’t quite hear the first few words, but he does hear the last. “Will.” Then she sighs, and warm and heavy body relaxes against his own.

He realizes this is the first time they have shared a bed without having sex, and he’s not quite sure what that means, or if it means anything at all. Soon, he’s asleep, too.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I realize that this ending might not be quite what some of you had been expecting or hoping for - but to my defense, one of my initial keywords was that the fic is canon compliant. Consider it an attempt on my part to write a gap filler to explore a very intriguing event we know next to nothing about. And let's face it - with their inability to communicate, their unresolved feelings towards each other (or rather: Her denial), her separation, and her (very likely) having already had the children she wants to have, it's bound to be have been an angsty mess. 
> 
> We don't really know if Alicia feared she was pregnant with Will or with Peter. But seriously. Of course it was with Will! ;)


End file.
